Captain’s Wench
by Ivory Night
Summary: Who new a tatto could end up causing so much trouble?
1. Chapter 1

**Captain's Wench**

**(A.N.)** This is my first Pirates of the Caribbean fic ever, so please be kind. Opinions would be great.

I own nothing so please don't sue.

* * *

"This is going to hurt, isn't it?" 

"Quit your whining!"

"Oww!"

"Sigh, If you don't stop moving I'm going to give you a tattoo of Papa smurf instead!"

"…I'll be good…"

"Hmm, I thought so." And I knew he was grinning, the sadistic bastard!

"Hay, Nate?"

"Ya?"

"Why do you want a replica of the tattoo on Captain Jack Sparrow's wrist on the small of

your back?"

Hmm Why indeed, I thought to myself.

"Why, can't do it?" was how I answered laced with my well known smirk that currently

he couldn't see anyway.

"Don't mock me Nate." Brendan replied.

"I'm still not done yet and there is plenty of time left for me to fuck it up." He said continuing.

"Ok, ok no need to get touchy." I muttered quietly.

"…But we are touching." I new his eyes were still focused on the small of my back and I felt his free hand lightly touch my stomach.

"Nate." He said in a drawling voice with slight amusement. "Does your brother know you're here?"

"No." I said as I made that snaky free hand of his bleed a little with my trusty switch blade that I always carried with me. You never knew when you'd have to sharpen a pencil.

"And he won't find out as long as you finish the damn tattoo so I can leave." Unnerved from the cut he drew his hand away and continued 'working'. From all the drugs Brendan took it was a wonder that he could feel anything. He must have screwed up his entire nervous system when he was thirteen.

"Your no fun Nate, I thought you used to like me." I could actually see him pout in my minds eye. Ya, 'used to' were the key words. I thought back when I was still Henry's, his best buddy's little awkward sister. Funny how after the bitch slap of puberty and the dimming away of the welting bruise could in fact actually leave a person looking beautiful. Not to get me wrong I still felt ugly in the inside and would probably always feel that way; but after the baby fat went away and the giant mountains of pus left my face it seemed like everyone who had ever made fun of me back in high school was now literally kissing my ass for attention. It was freaking me out. I kind of liked it better when they ignored my presence.

"Ok…awkward." Brendan said breaking the long silence as well as my thoughts. "Any way I'm done here have a look." He took out his cell phone and took a picture of the art he had created. I grabbed the phone and stared. It was perfect, just like the one in the movie. For a junky, Brendan, was an aspiring artist and believe it or not a pharmacist. The second was his day job. Go figure. The picture still captivating me, he had gotten it right from the image of the sparrow to the outline of the sun and the water beneath it in the bird's background.

"Eghem." I snapped the phone shut not before deleting the picture. "My payment."

"Oh, yes, fifty bucks you said…" Rummaging though a coffin shaped bag could be quite humorous in a public place, such as church, but within the presence of a masochistic pervert it's rather nerving especially when you can't find your wallet.

My left hand was suddenly stopped. "You know what?" He said. "Forget the money. I'll give it to you on the house, if you answer me this." His eyes suddenly bore into mine with a seriousness that I did not expect to find in their bloodshot sleepy state. "Why, would you of all people get a tattoo? Especially a replica of one from a movie! I mean I love pirates too, but this is not like you!"

I never liked physical contact from anyone and this constant 'touching' of his was getting annoying. "I'll pass on your offer." I shoved the fifty dollars I had just found into his hands. "Oh, and Brendan, if you ever tell anyone especially my brother I got this little piece of art, you'll find those pictures of you from last Halloween mysteriously all over myspace."

"What?"

You know the ones of you, after your gothic cousin and her friends gave you a little makeover?" This was too good. His body gave an involuntary shudder. "All that glitter…" He said in a hallowed out whisper of a voice.

"See you later hun," was what I said after kissing his forehead playfully. Walking out that door I strutted self satisfied under the hot California sun paved streets and retreated to the tiny yet delightful Blue Moon Café three blocks down from where I started from. Hay, it was better then waiting in line at the Starbucks next door for forty-five minutes.

"Nanette!" said the friendly waiter's voice. "Would it be the usual?" I nodded with a smile that didn't reach my eyes. Craig the friendly buddist/zen waiter of Blue Moon Café was a year older then me and we had gone to high school together. As a junior I told him I loved him. He said he was flattered. As a freshman I bared him my broken soul. He hugged me with a sad smile on his face. Too kind to hate, he was the third man to ever break my heart. It still pained me to see him choose the company of the biggest whore in his class back in his high school days over mine. Whom, she at the moment was reading a People magazine at the corner drinking her nonfat soy latte with double shots of vanilla. Yes, I knew her favorite drink. Know the enemy, isn't that written in the Bible somewhere? Besides you never knew when you might have to use your poison ring…hehehe. "Here you go." His cheery voice said as her served me my dark espresso; no sugar, no foam with a hint of cinnamon. Not bringing myself to look up, I muttered a thank you. I couldn't look at his lovely face. It was moments like these that made me wish I carried a flask in order to spike my drinks. Sigh, Why was the rum always gone when you needed it most?

* * *

**Pina Coladas for all those who Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Hello again! I'd like to thank my reviewer **captainsallymae**! Thanks hun may you live long and prosper. **:P**

**(A.N.)** I own nothing please don't sue.

Also, please peeps if your going to put a story on you favorites at least review it time to time as well.

* * *

It was getting late and the last of the giggling girls that came to the Blue Moon Café to be waited upon by my favorite Buddhist were

beginning to leave. That left me with my lovely book The Shadow of the Wind; in which I had read so many times it's pages had

become worn out do to my sweaty palms; and Craig with his not so lovely whore, Lina. He was trying to explain the concept of the

Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi, to her. By the looks of any angle it wasn't sinking in. The only reason dear old Lina came

to visit Craig at work was to watch other girls squirm with jealousy. For you see even though he was the closest thing you could get to

a star heart throb even in Hollywood, the guy was a saint and was completely devoted to his whore of a companion. This was most

unfortunate for the female population.

I wanted to yell out that Musashi was one of the greatest men to ever live and get caught up in the moment of his heated one sided

conversation, but I held my tongue. If he realized how much he still meant to me that would be the end of our friendship. I left a three

dollar tip on my table and grabbed my coffin. Noticing that I was leaving, he waved at me with a genuine smile. In her shrilly voice

Lina said goodbye smirking. …The bitch knew. Reluctantly I waved back. Setting foot into my old school Mercedes I drove back to

the Valley. It had been a long day and ignoring the pain in my lower back had been simple till now. The 405 freeway was not a

friendly place. Some shit was up and cars where not moving. With nothing on the radio and my car being old with no CD player or i

Pod dock I was forced to reminisce about my day.

"It's not like you. Why'd you get the tattoo?" Brendan's words rattled around my head.

"Not like me?" I muttered breaking my own silence. I hated it when people thought they had figured me out. There was one person

and ONLY one person who got me and currently she was in France studying art while being wooed by dramatic aristocrats. Sillies,

didn't they realize her favorite type of meat was jock? …hehehehe

"Why indeed had I gotten that tattoo?" I mouthed. My life my dear conscience was uneventful and tiring. So what if I lived in L.A.,

shopped around in Melrose, hung out in Hollywood and Beverly Hills? The only things to ever break the tediousness of my routine

like life were when extremely disturbing and horrible things occurred. Those times were what shattered me and picking up the pieces

were really hard to do.

To say the least growing up in a place where movies are made daily I found escape in a particular one. Can you guess which? Shure

you can!

It wasn't until I came across my cousin's copy of Pirates of the Caribbean that I really felt again. The adventure and the

wonder of it all helped me leave my dull little life every time I watched it because I could not gain my own adventures. I wanted to

travel but I was a broke collage student, three years later I still am. I already had a colorful group of friends but they had all left L.A.

because of their funds from 'old money'. Just because I had gone to private school did not make me rich. And so currently I was left

alone with my older brother Henry, who was now engaged and his oddball friends who were just starting to grow up.

With the feelings of excitement came freedom and I wanted freedom so badly.

_Freedom from school bills and studying till ungodly hour;_

_Freedom from parents who expected more from their daughter who decided to become an author;_

_Freedom from my brother's fiancé, who wanted to be 'girlfriends', the creepy gothic hippy;_

_Freedom from watching my friends fade away;_

_From being hit on by sadistic perverts who used to torture me;_

_And especially freedom from my own insecurities and my failure to change the tediousness of my pathetic predicament. _

Not to sound lame but the Black Pearl stood for that, freedom I mean. It wasn't as if I was an obsessed fan girl, no not at all. It was

the theme of the film that made me fall in love with it; filling me with pathetic hope. Still wondering why I got the tattoo? I know its sad

the fact that a film created my only form of hope, but hay I lived in L.A. where everything was fake starting from the people. Just

staying true to your self was hard. Besides having some hope is better then having none, isn't it?

* * *

**Please Review! Pink Cotton candy for all!**


	3. Chapter 3

Hay guys I know it's been awhile, but here's Chapter 3! It's still the calm before the storm so please keep reading and be patient! One more chapter or not till the real adventure begins and spoilers might come about, so if you haven't seen POC 3 (that's blasphemy!) go see it!!!

I own nothing so please don't sue!

* * *

"I'm home!" I yelled out to no one in particular and it wasn't like anyone was there to great me anyway. I had moved out of my

childhood home two years ago to a tiny but charming apartment complex. Owned by a stylish old Parisian lady who being childless,

enjoyed called me her 'Petite Cherie', I was given a good deal on my housing. Returning the favor for her kindness I always had lunch

with her every Saturday, but at the moment she was sailing the Mediterranean, and thus once again I was left to my loneliness. Walking

through the hallway lost in thought I entered my living room and pressed the button on my answering machine. More out of habit from

back in the day when I had a strong social life I didn't expect the following message and it came like an interesting surprise. "You have

one new message, beep," said the automated voice. " Hay Sexy Lady, its Alicia! Remember Me!? 'insert giggle from Alicia' I live in

Florida now and its just so glamorous! I'm dating someone oh so wonderful! Anyway we're having the most fabulous yacht party in the

Caribbean next week and I would sooooooo love it if you came! Kisses! Really, Nanette I miss you so much, please be there, we have

sooooooo much catching up to do!" "Beep, end of final message." Half smirking to myself I sat down into one of my comfy Indian

pillows (tatto still intact sitll hurting somewaht). …Alicia, hu? She was one of my few friends back in high school and as I recall the

shyest. The use of her words now was influenced by my part back in the day when glamour was still important to me. Never one to ever

feel jealous I was happy about the fact she was doing so well and I was almost convinced to go. They Key word here is 'Almost'. The

lifestyle she now had was one I had once obtained but soon realized was not the one I wanted. It was too FAKE and I could not stand

it. Many a time I had stood champagne in hand flirting with large groups of males and delicately tying them around my tiny fingers while

feeling nothing but emptiness inside. Many a time I had been stared out by herds of females with nothing but contempt in their eyes as I

walked into rooms perfect in poise and fashion. I hated it. It disgusted me how easy it was to trick these people into thinking I was one

of them and that I actually liked them and cared out the things they did. I knew what made them cry and I knew what made them laugh.

For a time in my masochistic and sadistic pleasure I took advantage of this as much as I could. It was not until at some hotel party's

bathroom did I look into the mirror and realize I could not recognize the person staring back at me. It seemed like everything that I had

done in the last year and a half came crashing down one me in those five seconds and I found myself drowning. Needless to say, I

broke the mirror and the pain of my blooded fist brought me back to my senses. I left, I left and I never went back. Party invitations

went unread and burned. Text messages and emails were unopened and deleted, till months later when they seemed to almost cease to

come. Though at times like this one those whom I had apparently had left a lasting impression on still perused my attentions and tried to

get me to come on one of their godless endeavors. Yet, most of these times I'm not ashamed to say the callers were male, (hay I live in

L.A., give me a freaking break here) though sometimes though rarely, the callers were women who still considered us friends, just like

this one, Alicia. I looked at the funny glow of the answering machine. I had saved a previous message and all but forgot about it, so

unlike me. I pushed the button. The contrast almost made me jump. Henry's deep voice was an odd change next to Alicia's high pitched

giggly one. "Hay, Nate what's up? Anyway look Emmy decided it's about time we started planning for our wedding and since your not

busy I was wondering if you'd help her. She's clueless about these things and you know how much she likes you. So, like please if you

have time can you help her next week, if you can that be great, cuz you know I'll have to end up doing it and I hate stuff like that. Help

your brother out man. See ya." " Beep. End of final message." Ugh, Emmy…I think I'll give good old Alicia a call.

* * *

Ya, the review button, it's calling you...heheheheh... 


End file.
